


Training Days

by Tangorine



Series: Life in the Shatterdome [1]
Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Angst, Gen, Jaeger Academy, Training!fic, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-26
Updated: 2013-10-06
Packaged: 2017-12-24 18:46:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/943375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tangorine/pseuds/Tangorine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Chuck first enlists for the Jaeger Academy, he’s twelve years old. They don’t know how he did it exactly, but he runs away from the Shatterdome in the night and hitches a ride on an old cargo ship before he’s dragged kicking and screaming back to Sydney.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Kink meme prompt: http://pacificrimkink.livejournal.com/1613.html?thread=2696269#t2696269 This is a WIP, but future chapters should be up soon!

When Chuck first enlists for the Jaeger Academy, he’s twelve years old. They don’t know how he did it exactly, but he runs away from the Shatterdome in the night and hitches a ride on an old cargo ship before he’s dragged kicking and screaming back to Sydney. To his chagrin, he barely even leaves the harbour, and he guesses he deserves to be sent back with how bad that plan was.

“My son did _what_?” Herc had shouted, storming out of the LOCCENT, and to this day, people still talk about how he had dressed down his son in front of Lucky Seven’s entire crew, looking like he wanted to half hug the boy, and half to shake some sense into him.

“Seriously kid,” Scott had said with amusement, folding his hands in front of his chest. “Kodiak Island is near Alaska…it would have taken you _months_ to get there by boat.”

Chuck’s next escape attempt occurs only four months later. This time he gets a little further; he gets into Hong Kong harbour, and Herc fetches him personally from the police station, yelling at the harbour master for letting a twelve year old boy travel alone with no travel documents.

“The kid said he was being abused!” The man had replied, and Chuck had cringed at the flat look Herc had shot him. Herc just escorts his boy out of Hong Kong with a firm hand on his neck, jaw clenched as they board the helicopter.

Maria nearly busts a gut when she hears the story, and she throws down her wrench in favour for pouring Herc a whiskey from her own personal stash. His face looks haggard, dark circles under his eyes, and he knocks back the shot quickly, desperately.

“What am I going to _do_ with him? He keeps picking days where I’m on assignment, and he’s a smart kid - he’ll eventually figure a way out there.”

“You’re going to have to tag the kid.” She jokes, and then almost takes it back when Herc actually raises his head, looking like he’s seriously contemplating on getting an ankle bracelet or something. The man looks tired, still fresh from the loss of his wife, and god knows Chuck’s temperament isn’t easy to deal with either.

“He just keeps fighting me, and he’s going to get himself killed trying to get on that island.”

Maria just looks down, knowing Herc isn’t going to like what she says.

“Look Herc, I know you just want to protect the boy, but you’ve gotta consider Chuck’s side of things.” Herc just raises his eyes to stare uncomprehendingly at her. “He’s lost his mum, and all he’s got left is you and Scott and _both_ of you are gone for months, risking your lives. The way I see it, he just wants to be a part of the family.”

“He’s _twelve._ ” Herc explodes, trying to ignore the truth he’s beginning to see in her words.

“No one’s saying he has to go now, but just talk to him, let him know that you’ll consider it at least. That way, he won’t be in such a hurry to run away and get himself killed.”

Yeah, Herc thinks silently. But sending his kid out to fight kaiju is just as dangerous; just not as immediately fatal. Stacker’s already agreed to take Chuck on, if not just to prevent him from distracting Herc whilst he’s away on missions, but he knows his son. Chuck will succeed at whatever he puts his mind to, and the kid is way too smart for his own good.

When he gets back to his bunk, he knows his son is pretending to sleep. He knows the position, the one where he’s hunched up on one side, purposely facing away from the door. He’s spent many a night coming back to that, climbing into his own bunk before listening to his son shift, to hear him cry softly, whimpering into his pillows. Sometimes he hears catches of whispers of _mum_ , and he’s tried to comfort his boy once. Once, because the first time he tried to console him Chuck had screamed at him, shouted _murderer_ and Herc had spent the night in a bar, drinking himself into a coma.

They don’t talk about that incident, not ever, but since then, when Chuck sleeps on his side, it’s an unspoken agreement that Herc won’t touch him or approach him, and they manage just about fine.

But tonight he places a hand on Chuck’s shoulder, gripping tightly when he tries to shrug him off, and Herc’s heart clenches painfully when he sees dried out tears on his son’s face.

“Why do you want to be a ranger so badly?” Herc sighs, letting his hand fall to his side. 

Chuck just stares stubbornly away, refusing to acknowledge him.

“If you won’t tell me why, at least listen to what I have to say. I’ve asked Stacker to accept you as a candidate for the next intake.” That gets a reaction, and Herc sits down on Chuck’s bed, mattress sinking with his weight. “But before then, I want you to think about the reasons why you’re doing this. If it’s for revenge, I get you, but revenge isn’t going to be enough. I’ve known SAS officers who haven’t succeeded and it’s going to be even more difficult for you because of who you are and your age.”

“You and Uncle Scott did it easily.” Chuck mutters, finally sitting up.

“That’s because we were lucky, and in the right place at the right time. And trust me kid, it was anything but easy.” Herc replies. “Before you leave we are going to hit the gym and I am going to drill you until I’m sure you can hold your own.”

“I can protect myself.” Chuck just says, clenching his fists into his covers. He’s big for his age, and he’s picked up a lot from just watching people in the Shatterdome, absorbing anything he can.

“I know you can son, but the army isn’t like the Shatterdome. There’s always going to be a bigger asshole out there with even bigger issues and they won’t stop just because you’re a kid. You’re not leaving this place until I’m sure you can take care of yourself.”

Chuck just falls silent, chewing on his lip like he still wants to say something. But whatever he’s thinking, he doesn’t say, and quickly, he sneaks a hug and before Herc can even react, his son is letting go, looking almost embarrassed. Herc just opens his mouth, but no sound comes out.

“Thanks dad.” Chuck mutters, before pulling the covers over himself, signalling an end to the conversation.

“You’re welcome, son.”

And for the first time in a long time, Herc feels like he’s done something right.


	2. Phase 1: Basic Knowledge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know why Stacker rubs me up the wrong way. I think he’s awesome in the film, and I love Stacker/Herc but I just cannot get over how dismissive he was of Chuck in the movie. Like seriously. He’s so _mean_. But I try to write some sense into him.

Chuck arrives on Kodiak Island just in time for winter. He’s missed the normal recruiting deadline, missed the window where there are regular flights up to Alaska from Sydney, and so Stacker sends a private jet to pick him up, mainly on Herc’s insistence. Scott just waves him a goodbye and Herc stands just out of view with his hands crossed in front of his chest, a frown etched into his expression. Chuck still aches from their most recent training session, body stiff with hurt, but there’s a low rumble of excitement in his belly, an eagerness that he can’t quite place as he steps onto the plane.

He’s got one dufflebag with a change of clothes, and Herc has warned him against everything on that goddamn island - _I’m serious Chuck, no alcohol, no girls, and if I catch you even touching those kaiju pills_ \- and Scott had just laughed, slapping his dad on the shoulder and telling him to stop being such a killjoy. _You’ll be fine, you’re a Hansen._ Scott had said, and despite himself, Chuck had puffed out a little at that. Damn right he was.

But when he finally steps out of the plane, faces the Kodiak Island training facility, his confidence fades as he sees the grey building, walls tall and imposing. Jaeger Academy is brutal, tough enough to make grown men cry, and Chuck has to force himself to place one foot in front of the other, walking stiffly up the stone steps and through the entrance. The academy itself is actually bustling, full of recruits in khaki washed out uniforms, moving in and out for their classes, and he accidentally bumps into a young Korean girl who just coos down at him when she sees how young he is.

“Are you lost, little boy?” She asks, and automatically Chuck just scowls and turns away. Her hair is cropped short, and her eyes are kind, but he doesn’t have time for this when he sees the Marshall walk towards him, Mako in tow. He hasn’t seen her since his dad first finished test piloting Lucky Seven, and he feels his face curve into a smile at the familiar face. She’s cute as ever, a tiny little thing that clutches at Stacker’s leg as she peers shyly at him. She’s only two years younger than him, but it doesn’t seem like it when she stands next to her adopted father, completely dwarfed by his commanding presence.

“Mr Hansen, glad you could make it.” The man is tall and broad, just as imposing as he remembers, and Chuck snaps to attention, trying to stand as tall as he can. “I hope the plane was to your liking.”

There’s something odd about his tone, something that raises his hackles, but Chuck’s a quick learner and it beginning to be clear that just because Herc says something that doesn’t necessarily seem to be the case. He knows he’s too young, he knows it’s practically _unheard_  of, to send a twelve year old to Alaska to take part in one of the toughest, most gruelling training regimens ever created. Stacker’s taken inspiration from the SAS, the French Foreign Legion, and he knows they won’t take him seriously, not at first. But naively, he had thought perhaps Stacker had wanted him here, had asked for him, and slowly, he’s beginning to understand.

He’s here because of Herc’s request, yes, but the only other motive the Marshall has for accepting Chuck is so Herc can concentrate on piloting Lucky Seven without having to worry about his bratty little son running off to god knows where.

It fucking guts him, and makes him want to crawl inside himself. Being a ranger is all he wants to be, all he knows. Because he’ll never forgive his dad for choosing him, never forgive himself for being the reason why his mother is dead. When he gets his own Jaeger, he’ll never give cause for Herc to sacrifice anyone again, and he’ll fucking kill those pieces of kaiju shit, eviscerate them for what they’ve done to him and his family.

And it’s at that very moment that Chuck vows he won’t give Pentecost a fucking inch. He’s been living, breathing, dreaming of Jaegers ever since they’d moved into Sydney’s Shatterdome, and fuck Stacker and fuck his dad for thinking they can just fob him off and hope he’ll sit quietly in the background.

“It was fine, sir.” Chuck just says quietly, his voice calm, even. Stacker just nods dismissively, placing a giant hand on Mako’s shoulder.

“I’m sure you remember Mako. She’ll show you around the place and get you settled in before your classes tomorrow. I hope I don’t need to remind you, but please keep your relation to Herc and Scott secret, the last thing we need is for people to think you got through because of nepotism.”

Chuck just grits his teeth at that, and clenches his fists as he watches Pentecost ruffle Mako’s hair fondly before striding away. He’s so angry that he almost misses Mako’s expression, sad and wistful as she turns to him with a strained smile.

“I’m sorry Chuck,” she says, haltingly in English, words obviously new and foreign. “He’s just not happy because I asked him if I could join too.”

And with that, she grabs his hand and leads him down a myriad of corridors, showing him the Jaeger Academy with the confidence of someone who’s clearly been allowed to roam freely of their will, at home in a place that Chuck doesn’t know if he’ll ever feel like he belongs.

*

He gets a room to himself, and he stares at the walls hollowly as he sits on his bunk, duffle lying abandoned in the corner. He figures he gets the single room because of his age, and he’d enjoy it if he didn’t know that most trainees bunk in rooms of eight, communal bathrooms and cramped conditions all around. It’s been the first time he’s slept alone since K-day, and he feels oddly out of place and out of sync. He misses Lucky’s crew, he misses his dad and his uncle and their comforting familiarity.

There’s no way he’s going to to call them after his first day; the crew probably have bets on it, so he curls up on his bunk, trying to sleep. He’s skipped dinner because he’s not hungry, and he’s got his class timetables and schedules in his head, kaiju science and basic weaponry and stuff that Chuck’s been dreaming of, ever since he realised he’d be allowed to attend the academy.

He manages to fall asleep eventually, stomach a mess of nerves, missing the sound of the Shatterdome, missing the low hum of of Lucky Seven and Vulcan Scepter.

*

The first lesson is basic engineering, and Chuck takes a seat in the lecture hall, right on the edge of the room and in the corner. A few people look at him oddly as they take out their notepads, but no one approaches him as the instructor starts to teach, going over Jaeger mechanics and physics and mechanics. Chuck had worried he would be behind since he was starting so late, but as the concepts filter through his brain, he realises he's covered this with Maria already, absorbed the knowledge from hanging around Lucky Seven's crew.

Second lesson is kaiju sciences, and Chuck finds it slightly more challenging, because his interest lies in physics, not biology. He doesn't give a shit about kaiju and preserving tissue etc, but he resolves to study up in his spare time; his dad went through the same thing and damned if he wouldn't do better.

Tactics is fucking awesome, and Chuck finds it difficult to disengage from the lesson, still thinking up battle strategies after the lesson. And by the end of the day he’s feeling much better, despite the fact no one talks to him, whispering as he walks to class after class, hauling a backpack full of textbooks that looks too big for him.

It isn't until dinner when the Korean girl he'd met in the morning approaches him, dragging another asian girl by the arm to his table, sitting down next to him.

"Are you a _recruit_?" She bursts out, tone incredulous and loud. “I saw you when you arrived, but I thought you were Mako’s boyfriend or something!”

The entire mess hall falls silent, and he can see that everyone is staring at him, eager to find out more about the young boy who’s suddenly started to appear in their lectures. Chuck manages to go from annoyed to pissed to embarrassed in less that half a minute, and his face burns as he snaps,

“She’s not my girlfriend. Leave me alone.”

The other girl just slaps her up the head, and scowls at her when she rubs her head and pouts.

“I’m sorry for So-yi here. She never managed to learn any manners. I’m Yuna, do you mind if we sit with you?”

Chuck slowly raises his eyes to look at the girls, and gestures for them to take a seat. They’re a few years older than him, and they have an easy familiarity with each other that suggests they’ve applied to Jaeger Academy as a drift pair. No one’s bothered to talk to him all day, and although he hates to admit it, he wants somebody to talk to, to help distract him from the gnawing feeling of homesickness.

“You’re Chuck right?” Yuna says, sitting down next to him and placing her tray on the table. Without waiting for an answer, she starts picking at her food, and So-yi follows suit, shifting closer to him eyes filled with curiosity.

“So...do you mind if you help us settle a bet? There’s some some Timtams in it for you if tell us how old you are.” So-yi says, ignoring the glare that Yuna shoots her way.

Chuck doesn’t know whether to be offended or not.

“Piss off.” He glares, and there’s a small pause before he reconsiders.

“You’ve really got Timtams?”

He just gets a wide smile in response.

*

Winter passes by with relatively little incident, and Chuck is grateful for the Korean girls and their bickering. It reminds him weirdly of Herc and Scott, and it becomes a habit for them to stick together. The other recruits are mostly ex military, big guys that tend to leave them alone, and Chuck finds himself settling in eventually, getting used to So-yi’s whining when she scores less than him on their interims, and Yuna’s mothering when she thinks he isn’t eating enough. The two of them used to be Olympic fencers back in the day, and they are fiercely competitive in anything they do, and that includes their arguing.

He spends Christmas eve on base in Kodiak island, along with the other recruits that have nowhere else to go. Scott and Herc have been deployed on another training exercise, and Chuck tries not to take it to heart when he spends it alone, stabbing his food with his fork viciously. Mako isn’t allowed to go near the dorms at night, but she brings him a present with a small smile, and he feels better despite himself.

It isn’t until Christmas Day he gets a vidcall, and Scott’s face flashes on screen, slightly blurred from static.

“How’re you doing champ?”

Chuck just shrugs.

“Hey Uncle Scott. I’m good, what’s Dad doing?”

There’s a small scuffle and Herc’s face flashes into view, a worried expression etched into his features.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it back kid. Stacker treating you alright? Are you eating enough?”

He hasn’t spoken to Stacker since the first day they met, but he plasters a smile anyway and nods. Suddenly there’s a noise in the background that almost sounds like a yipping sound, and Herc disappears momentarily again.

“Sorry, Herc’s got something for you.” Scott says, a grin spreading across his face. It makes him look younger, more mischievous, and he leans in closer to whisper conspiratorially. “But in my opinion, I think he only got it cause he misses you like mad.”

Herc reappears again, carrying a tiny ball of fluff, and Chuck’s eyes widen as it starts to move, barking when he sees his face.

“You got a _dog_?”

“His name is Max.” Herc says, smiling. “I wanted to surprise you with it in time for Christmas but then we got called to Hong Kong last minute. We’ll bring him over for you after your exams?”

“Yeah sure,” Chuck replies, unable to stop himself from grinning. He’s always wanted a dog, and he can’t believe his dad remembered. “Thanks dad.”

“No problem kiddo, we’ll try and visit as soon as we can.”

They hang up after that, Max barking with excitement, and Chuck pulls out a textbook, figuring what the hell. He might as well study.


	3. Phase 2: Endurance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chuck makes friends and enemies alike.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit more violent. I swear the worst is over.

Chuck passes his exams with an average of ninety six percent. The only person that beat him was a scientist with a PhD in metabolic processes, and the professor had only applied to the academy because he wanted to be a PPDC scientist rather than a pilot. Their names are published on a board outside Stacker's office, and Chuck has to tiptoe to find himself, grinning slightly in relief when he looks up to find his marks. So-yi positively screeches as him when she sees him, hugging him tightly and Yuna smiles serenely, punching his back in congratulation.

"You are such a little geek." She says, but there's no resentment to her words, only vague amusement. “What did you do all winter, eat textbooks?”

“Gotta digest that knowledge somehow.” Chuck quips with a wicked grin, and So-yi just scrunches her nose up at the awful pun.

He scans the board again, and sees that he's been assigned to group four for combat training. He isn't with anyone that he knows, with Yuna and So-yi in group one together, but the higher the number, the higher the chance of progression, and he knows he's lucky to have gotten this far. He’s got no drift partner, at a ten year disadvantage to most of the recruits, and four is probably the best he can hope for.

He waits all day for his dad to call him, jittery with success, wondering what Herc will sound like, only the call never comes. He knows his dad is busy, with another predicted kaiju attack coming in just two weeks, but he can’t help but hope for the call, proud of himself for the first time in his life.

After the two week mark, Chuck watches the new channels obsessively, watching his dad and Scott’s interviews fresh after their newest kaiju kill. And somehow, Chuck can’t find it in himself to be happy, shutting the news channel with a click.

*

The first day of physical training, Chuck pukes, struggling to breathe as he runs the drills, instructors screaming at him as he struggles. The only thing that keeps him going is the fact that other guys twice his age are also puking, and when he forces his body to do another round of squat thrusts, thighs trembling with effort, he almost collapses in relief when the instructor tells them to take twenty, taking Chuck aside to have a word.

“Hansen, isn’t it?” He growls, throwing him a bottle of water and a wet towel to clean his face. “Are you sure you can handle it? There’s no shame if you wanna wait a year or so to strengthen up.”

Chuck just glowers back at him.

“No sir. I’m fine.” He grits, trying to stay respectful.

“Have it your way.” The guy just shrugs, and smiles toothily. “It’s Jameson, by the way. I taught yer daddy, and you have the same look about you. You know, the one when you’re pissed off.”

Chuck’s face falls slack with shock, and then his expression settles into a frown as he realises there’s one guy too many that knows his connection to Herc and Scott already.

The guy just walks off after that, signalling the end of his break, and after that Jameson acts like he doesn't know him at all, screaming and abusing their group, spittle flying everywhere as he kicks Chuck's arms from underneath his pathetic attempts at pushups. He guesses it's a good thing, that he's being afforded no favoritism, but by the end of the day he wants to kill something, muscles spasming and so sore that he can feel the corners of his eyes prickling.

He curls up in bed as soon as he gets back from after their first training session, groaning at the feel of soft cotton on his skin, so different from parade ground dirt and sand and grit. He falls asleep instantly, completely deaf to the soft beep of his phone, completely missing what would have been a call from Herc.

*

The bullying starts as soon as they're paired off into smaller groups. It’s part of the program to focus on endurance training first; frog marches in the freezing cold and obstacle courses taken out of the SAS manual itself, and no one wants a half pint sized kid on their teams, pulling down their times. Chuck gets it, he really does. He can’t get over the walls as quickly, can’t keep the pace, but what he lacks in strength he makes up for in ingenuity, and his times aren’t great, but they’re sure as hell not the worst.

So he resents the way some of the younger recruits shove him in the mess hall, laughing as they take turns trying to trip him up. The older recruits tend not to bother much with him; it’s the ones that are in their twenties, looking for something to vent their own frustrations and failures on.

There’s one guy in particular, an ex ranger from the US Army that is particularly vindictive, follows him down corridors and always tries to sabotage his times. His name is Jackson, nicknamed Bullet for the half melted bullet he keeps with his dog tags, a souvenir apparently from some war he’s fought in. Chuck just grits his teeth and deals with it, because he’s been warned by Herc and Stacker to keep a low profile, but when his food gets dumped for the second time in a week, Chuck has to bite his lip from screaming in frustration.

He’s about to break, about to swing for his fucking smug grin, and Bullet just laughs, watching his clenched fists with amusement.

“Aww, does the liddle baby wanna cry and throw a temper tantrum?”

Chuck growls, deep in his throat, and suddenly a strong hand lands on his shoulder, and the guy suddenly backs away.

“Get the fuck out of here Bullet. You’ve got much better things to do than pick on a little kid.” Chuck is about to protest, when the guy just points to the seat next to him, and pushes him into it, unyielding and firm. “Sit. You can have my tray.”

“I’m fine.” Chuck shrugs, desperately aware that everyone in the mess hall is staring at them.

“Don’t be stupid kid. From now on you’re gonna sit with us. Call me Miguel.”

*

Chuck turns thirteen in August, and all of a sudden his growth spurt hits. He gets taller, broader, stronger, and finally, it feels like he gets somewhere when he manages bench the weights he sees Miguel lifting. He shoots to the top of his class, in both weaponry and tactics, and his course times are getting better and better, improving so fast that Jameson tries to give him a talk about the dangers of steroid use. Miguel just laughs when he tells him, and his drift partner, Marco just grins, patting him on the back in congratulations.

“You’re getting better and better kid. When you turn eighteen remind me to get you a drink or something.”

Chuck just scowls again. The Mexicans are great, but they love to mention his age any chance they can, taking special delight in swigging shots of tequila or beer in front of him, whilst he sits on a bar stool, sipping a coke sullenly. They’re already test piloting a new Jaeger, having passed their phase three drift training last month, and Chuck knows that Yuna and So-yi are well on their way too. They’ve been fast tracked through physical training on account of their Olympic background, and unfortunately he doesn’t get to see them very often these days.

Even training becomes a routine, almost as easy as walking and breathing, and Chuck is making his way to the showers by himself one day, fresh from another personal best in the Kwoon when Bullet steps out from the shadows, surrounded with a few guys Chuck knows that have been recently cut from their year. They’re grinning unpleasantly, cracking their knuckles in anticipation, and Chuck takes a step backwards.

Shit. Fucking hell.

“Haven’t seen you around in a while, buddy.” Bullet smiles, hands wide and open as if welcoming him. “Too bad you’ve been hanging around the Mexicans all summer, we could have caught up.”

“Seriously Bullet. I don’t want any trouble.” Chuck says, trying to sound reasonable. But it doesn’t work, cause instantly Bullet’s expression darkens, lips curling up into a smirk.

“ _Seriously_  Chuck, no one’s gonna _give_ you trouble.”

It’s a complete lie. After they’re done with him, Chuck is lying on the floor, curled up and choking as he tries to protect his stomach, bruised and battered from the punches and kicks. He would have been fine if it had just been two of them, but they manage to overpower him with sheer numbers, tripping him up as he fights off Bullet, landing a few solid blows. He gets a few kicks in as well, feeling the satisfying crunch of bone and flesh beneath his boot, and Herc’s training comes flooding back to him as he immobilises them one by one. But despite his training, Bullet’s little gang gets the better of him, shouting and swearing at him as he groans, trying to protect himself from the blows.

“What the _hell_ is going on here?” Chuck hears Stacker shouting at people suddenly, a looming presence in the dark hallway, and he tries to get up when he hears the command, trying to crawl upright. He hurts all over, his nose is bleeding, and he’s trying to breathe slowly and calmly but he keeps gasping, trying to scramble up an excuse to Stacker, to beg him _please don’t kick me out, please. _  
__

And mercifully, everything goes black.


	4. Interlude: recovery and family visits

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for being a bit absent! Got some personal life things to do these few weeks, so finding it hard to find time to write and fandom. :) This chapter was a bitch to write too - me and multi-chapters are not good friends.

When Chuck wakes up, he hears the low murmur of people talking. There’s a soft hum of machines and a dull aching throb, and he blinks to clear his vision. Stacker is sitting next to him, reading an old Jaeger manual of some sort, and it takes Chuck a while to truly recognise him, the tall imposing Marshall looking so weary and worn. He tries to sit up, but there's a drip in his hand and Stacker looks up as he realises he's awake.

"How do you feel?" His tone is careful, neutral, and Chuck pulls himself up to sit up against his pillows. His body aches, muscles pulling all over, but he doesn't think anything is broken.

"I'm fine. You didn't need to send me to a hospital." Chuck says bluntly, looking around at the other beds. He doesn't think he's hurt too badly, just bruised, and he starts to bite his lip nervously. He'd done everything, kept himself out of trouble, excelled in his studies - and even started improving his Kwoon scores - this was the last thing he needed, being involved in fights with other recruits. The Marshall had made his intentions clear when he'd arrived, and he'd sworn he'd give them no excuse at all to kick him out.

“You're in the infirmary." Stacker says after a pause, eyes flickering up and down, assessing him. "I've dealt with the men involved. They will be severely punished for their extreme lack of judgement." His tone is blunt, harsh, and it brings a small smile to Chuck's face nonetheless. He remembers the days the Marshall used to visit Sydney on routine inspections, and he remembers the way the man had chewed out their superiors, no nonsense and tone scathing as he ripped their ideas to shreds.

"Thanks." He has nothing else to say, and looks down. Stacker just pulls his chair closer, and there's another silence.

"Herc is on his way to see you; he should be here tomorrow."

That snaps Chuck out of his reverie, and instantly he scowls, trying to cover up his panic. He doesn't need him here, not after being beaten up by a couple of goons, not after everything that's happened. Although Stacker's been relatively okay with everything so far, it feels overwhelmingly like failure, and he does not want his dad here.

"Why the hell is he coming here? Isn't there a kaiju prediction next week?"

"The Russians will be taking point on that one." Stacker says. "There's...well Herc and Scott are working through some things at the moment. And we figure there's no point in keeping your relation secret anymore."

"What's changed now?"

Stacker stands up, snapping his Jaeger manual shut. He stares pensively at him, and Chuck is about to say something just to fill the silence when the Marshall holds his hand up.

"I believe I owe you an apology. You've proved yourself so far as a very intelligent and capable candidate. I don't think we have anything to worry about; it's quite clear that piloting is in your blood."

Stacker walks away after that, leaving Chuck completely stunned.

*

By the time he's allowed to check out of the infirmary, he gets a call telling him that his dad is here. Reluctantly, he makes his way to the reception, and he runs into So-yi on the way and she's running so fast that they almost collide into one another, Chuck managing to catch her just as she falls.

"Dude, did you know that _Herc Hansen_ is here?" She squeals, jumping up and down in excitement. "Yuna is going to have a heart attack!" She then pauses, staring at the mottled bruises on his face, brow pinching down into a frown as she grabs him and leans in closer. "What the hell happened? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," he replies, forcing a smile. "I've gotta run but I promise I'll explain later."

He's about to leave when suddenly he hears a voice call his name, and he cringes slightly when he recognises the sharp bark, gravelly tone instantly recognisable through the low thrum of noise in the academy. He's spent his life trying to please that voice, knows its inflections inside out, and it still brings the same feelings over, with a sense of helplessness he know he shouldn’t feel anymore.

"Chuck!" Herc runs over to him, as fast as he can with one hand holding a leash to a small bulldog puppy, and slowly So-yi's turns her gaze to him, mouth falling open.

"Oh my god." She says. "You _know_ him?"

Chuck has to smile a little. His last name is _Hansen_ ; for fucks sake, but So-yi had never really been quick on the uptake, despite how well she did in her tests.

"I'll explain later." Chuck promises, realising she's not the only one who recognises Lucky Seven's pilot, and quickly he goes up to his dad and scowls. His dad hasn't changed one bit, though he looks tired from the flight and jet lagged like hell. He can feel his dad assessing him, scanning him over for bruises and eyeing his black eye grimly, and Chuck drags him over to his room before Herc decides to make a scene.

They spend the walk in silence, the unspoken "What the hell are you doing here?" Lingering between them, and when they finally reach his room Herc just holds up his hand, silencing what Chuck is about to say.

"I don't want to hear it." Herc says, dropping his duffle bag on the floor with a thud. "I'm your dad, and I'm allowed to be concerned."

Yes. Chuck thinks bitterly, it takes a fucking beating for him to finally come visit, but he doesn't press it when he just drops to his haunches to meet the newest member of their little family.

"His name is Max." Herc supplies, and Chuck feels a little less irritated when the puppy just butts his outstretched hand, clearly angling for a rub behind the ears. Herc clears his throat when Chuck just beams, and he hands over the leash, hand dropping awkwardly to his side. "I er talked to Stacker and he says you can keep him on base. Figured he'll grow up to be a fearsome beast, might help you scare off a few dickheads."

It's a nice thought, but judging by the way Max just rolls over and exposes his belly, Chuck sincerely doubts it.

*

They run the sim training a week after Herc's arrival, and they spend the week in an awkward rhythm, Chuck coming back from training sweaty and tired, irritable and tetchy. He spends his days being hounded by Yuna and So-yi, determined to get an autograph, and the Mexicans take his new found celebrity status to another new level, cracking jokes every opening they get. They've started to drift together recently, and Chuck doesn't like the way they've started to sync their thoughts, flowing from one joke to another, seamlessly and with a fluidity that Chuck doubts he'll ever achieve with anyone.

Herc has been helping with the training of some of the more advanced groups, whilst he and Scott take a break (whatever the fuck that means) and no matter how much Chuck kicks up a fuss, Herc won't mention it, won't let him call his Uncle. Chuck's kept up with the news, and he knows Scott's kind of an asshole, but he's family and he must have pissed off his dad immensely to get to the point where they can't even pilot Lucky Seven together anymore.

The fact that Herc won’t tell him what’s wrong has been a big sticking point between them, and so it's understandable when Chuck shows up at his first sim pod session, his face falls when he sees his dad with a clipboard, chewing a pen absently as he ticks off a register of names. He hasn't even bothered with a uniform; just wearing a grey Henley under his Lucky Seven jacket, dog tags tucked neatly behind his shirt, and Chuck's steps start to slow as the class of recruits turn to look at him, clearly expecting him to make a scene.

Herc clearly does too, because he looks up and then down again, ticking his name off the register with a small smile, and Chuck bristles. Fuck them. So he seats himself in the corner of the room, as far from everyone as he can get without removing himself from the class completely.

"Good morning everyone. My name his Herc Hansen, pilot of Lucky Seven, and I will be helping Stacker to oversee the next phase of your training. To have even reached this stage is commendable, but I assure you the next phase will be harder than anything you have yet experienced."

His voice is amiable, and he's smiling, but Chuck knows that tone and sinks even lower in his seat.

"As you have all passed phase one and two, I expect only to have the brightest candidates here, with the best physical scores. However, that is not enough. To pilot a Jaeger you need a partner, you need trust, and the sim pods are designed to help you to adjust to that. Any questions?"

"Yeah," an obnoxious voice calls out at the back, and Chuck turns to realise Bullet is here too, looking a bit paler and thinner, but still around. His scores had been well within the top quartile, and although he believes Stacker when he says they were punished, Chuck knows that they can’t afford to drop decent pilots when the world needs its Jaegers. If personality problems were a criteria for dismissal, then half of the current pilot roster would have to be dropped, by that category alone. "What happens when the whole system is screwed because our instructors favour other students because their _personal_ connections."

There's an audible intake of breath heard in the room, and Chuck feels his temper rising. He seethes, unable to come up with a response at how fucking unfair it was. That even now, he had an asshole that didn't think he deserve it, thought his scores had been anything but his own hard work.

Herc looks down at his register, and his expressions hardens, eyes growing flinty.

"Ah so you're the one who thought beating on a thirteen year old boy would solve your own feelings of inadequacy." He says mildly, eyes blue and unflinching as he holds his gaze. "Which is probably what makes you most qualified and deserving of a jaeger, am I right?"

There’s a low whistle from someone in the room, and Bullet sinks back down sullenly, flushing under the attention. Herc quickly moves on to explain how the simulators work, explaining that they’re not at the stage where they’re required to drift yet, but Chuck barely hears it. He’s never heard his dad take that tone with anyone before, and a guy he's never spoken to nudges his shoulder slightly and whispers,

"Dude. Your dad is terrifying."

He can’t help but agree.

*

Which is exactly why the next day, when Chuck finds out he's been assigned into a sim pod drift pair with Bullet, neither of them kick up too much of a fuss. It doesn’t stop them from trying to hurt each other any less though.


End file.
